


A Little Overkill

by Haospart



Series: One Sith, One Galaxy, Infinite Kids [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Blind Character, Canon-Typical Racism, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugging, Fantasy Racism, I'm Bad At Tagging, Imperial Assholery and Being A Dick To Aliens, Interrogation, Miraluka (Star Wars), Period-Typical Racism, Siblings, Temporary Blindness, consular and smuggler are siblings, i'm running out of things to tag, liroh is a damn disney prince and gets his ass kicked for it, rescue mission u don't really get to see i guess, space racism really, that mechanic in the inquis line where u get de-powered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-05-19 19:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haospart/pseuds/Haospart
Summary: Liroh's got himself into a bit of trouble on Alderaan, and he hasn't even had the chance to find whatever it was that Risha had sent him there for in the first place.  Imperial interference with the power struggle pulls him in on House Organa's side.  His effectiveness lands him in hot water, however, when the opposition calls for his capture.It certainly doesn't help that they can't help but assume he, a near-lawless, Miralukan spacer with only marginal connections to the Force, is a Jedi.  He's not, and the protocols for containing a Jedi are overkill for a gunslinger.





	1. Imperials Can Be Assholes

"Oh for- you have to be kidding me!"

 

Liroh Vooretta, self-proclaimed quickdraw master and crackshot pilot, fumed in the cell loudly and with a sour look on his face.  He huffed at one of the guards then settled in. He shifted around on the floor so he was sitting as comfortably as he could with his hands cuffed behind his back.  He leaned forward to stick his tongue out one last time before taking a breath to calm himself.

 

He focused, picking at the Force inside each of the guards.  Getting a read on their personalities and morals like this took a lot of concentration, he had to release the aspects of the Force that let him _see_ and compromise his vision to do this.  The guards were flashes of red, dark and heat next to his own cooler, softer blue flickers.  He was focusing on the furthest one, who was just barely lighter than neutral, when he felt a sharp pinch on his upper arm accompanied by the sound of a releasing injector.

 

He jumped with a yelp, "Hey! What the- stop that! What do you think you're up to?"

 

He dropped his sensing for their alignments and focused back to pick up his sight. Only he couldn't.  The Force, and as a result his one true avenue for seeing, slipped out of his reach. He furrowed his brow, reaching out again with his mind for something to latch on to.  It was gone. He chewed a little on the inside of his cheek and shook his head.

 

"Now, I think, you'll tell us what we want to know, _alien_ ," a voice came from slightly to his left, closer than he liked especially considering the Force's sudden absence.  He always knew he had a shaky-at-best grip on the Force, only enough of a hold on it to make up for the lack of eyes the Miraluka had evolved, but he'd never had any issue before with switching between his ability to see and his alignment-sensing skill.

 

He stopped chewing on his cheek and grit his teeth, "What did you do to me?" he spat and hunched his shoulders though it pulled at his wrists in all the wrong ways.

 

A laugh came from his other side, further away but still too close for comfort.  He jolted as a hand landed itself on his shoulder, "Just a little trick we've developed for handling Jedi."

 

"Right, well, I'm not one of them so I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish with this-"

 

There was a sharp sting and the sound of skin meeting skin and suddenly his head was no longer facing forward.  His left cheek pulsed hot and the guard to his left hissed in his ear, "Somehow I don't believe you, _Miraluka_ . The only reason _your_ kind ever leave Alpheridies is to join the Jedi order. So I suggest you answer our questions before you get hurt."

 

Liroh heaved a breath out through his nose. He responded calmly, "I _am_ telling the truth.  It's not my fault you're prejudiced-"  That earned him another slap to the face, in the same spot and it began to burn. "-But I sincerely have no idea what you're talking about. Honest.  What did you do to me?"

 

"We cut you off from the Force, mate. Nothin' more, nothin' less,"  the accent was different on that guard, had more drawl to it, and the person was further away, likely standing on the other side of the room.

 

What he said made sense though. The way the Force evaded him, like it didn't exist at all, matched up with what he'd heard of Jedi who were cut off from it.  It made you just like everyone else, just as Force insensitive as the common rabble.

 

The closest guard spoke again, "So I suppose you can see why I don't believe you-"

 

"Racism."

 

"SILENCE!" the next hit knocked Liroh over onto his side and knocked his veil away.  His head collided with the floor with a heavy thud and he grit his teeth as he tried to breathe through it.

 

A hand gripped his chin, forcing him to face up towards what was probably the face of one of the guards.  Liroh bared his teeth in a snarl.

 

"Disgusting," the guard whispered, then pushed Liroh's head back toward the ground.

 

\--------------------------

 

The interrogation continued with about the same tone.  The Imperial guards or whatever they were asked question after question, none of which Liroh had any answer to, and for each question unanswered he received some form of physical retribution.  By the end he was bruised and battered, he could taste the blood on his lip and he was sure it wasn't the only part on him that was bleeding.

 

"Would you stop! Please! I'm not a Jedi, I'm not working the Republic government, I'm not even a lawful citizen. I don't have what you want!  I've never even _met_ a Jedi or SIS or whatever else you're talking about, I'm an _outlaw_!" he finally snapped, not entirely honest but less lie than truth.  He kicked out blindly, not his first attempt at inflicting harm on his captors, but the first time he successfully landed a hit.  The man he kicked toppled over half on top of him, and Liroh wheezed when the Imp landed on some very tender developing bruises.

 

With the air knocked out of him and his wrists bound behind him, he couldn't twist to get out of the way of the foot that landed sharply in his gut, keeping him from taking in a deep breath.  He continued to huff and wheeze for another few seconds until he finally managed to curl his legs up to his chest in a feeble attempt to protect the soft, weak flesh there.

 

His next breath of fresh air came along with a deep bellow from outside the room. A wookiee's battle cry, "[ _We are here! Release our Captain!_ ]"

 

"Bowdaar," Liroh breathed as he cracked a grin.  He gave as hearty a laugh as he could, "Oh you're all bantha fodder now, I've got a wookiee!"

 

Chaos ensued outside the cell.  The sound and smell of blasterfire interspersed with the sound of a Vibroblade slicing through victim after victim filled the air.  The shouts gradually got quieter, until there was silence.

 

Liroh held his breath in the silence.

 

"[ _Liroh! Where are you?_ ]" came the voice of the wookiee and Liroh sighed his relief into the ground.

 

"Captain?!" that was Corso's voice, he had showed too.

 

"Here! I'm here!" Liroh let the rest of his body relax and sag into the ground.  A few more minutes and this would all be over.

 

Corso's light footsteps closed in on the smuggler's cell, slowing to a stop just inside the doorway.  There was a hiss, "Wow, Captain. They really did a number on you," came the voice, loud and clear. Then it faded slightly as Corso turned and shouted out the door, "I found him!  You might want to get up here though, it's not pretty!"

 

"[ _He better not be dead up there!_ ]"

 

Liroh chuckled, "I feel like being dead would hurt less."

 

He started to slowly roll himself into a sitting position, which took more effort than it felt like it should have.  Hands were suddenly on his shoulder and back, pulling him up, and he jumped at the lack of warning.

 

Corso stepped back, taking his hands off, "Woah, Captain.  Didn't mean to startle you."

 

Liroh shook his head, "No it's- don't worry about it Corso I'm just-.  They did something to me, injected me with something. I can't see anything right now.  Just- just warn me before you touch me, maybe?" he paused, "and if you could grab my mask wherever that went, that'd be great too."

 

"I don't know, Cap.  I'm not sure you should be putting that thing on right now.  The skin on your nose is split, and the cloth would irritate it."

 

"Fine, I won't wear it, just give it to me, please."

 

Corso paused, then there was some rustling and the sound of his footsteps.  He muttered a soft, "I'm going to get your hands unbound, going to touch you," and once the restraints were removed the soft fabric of Liroh's veil was in his hands.  He loved it, dearly, and it reminded him of home.

 

Liroh rubbed the fabric between his fingers, exploring by touch what he knew so well.  The tan, thick fabric had two decorative tassels on the bottom corners, and it bunched in the middle to an intricate combination nose-guard and brooch.  His fingers twisted around the curled prongs at the top of the brooch and he felt some calm return to him.

 

He turned to where he assumed Corso was and gave a shaky smile, "Thank you."

 

The smile in Corso's voice made Liroh smile wider, "Not a problem, Captain.  Are you up to moving around? You look like you just got thrown in a Rancor den."

 

The smuggler shrugged, "I can give it a shot, but I'm running without a navigational sense right now.  I have no idea when whatever the hell they put in me will run its course. It acted fast."

 

"Yeesh."

 

Liroh snorted, "Yeah you're telling me.  Apparently it's something they use to knock out _Jedi_ so no telling when I get back to normal, really."

 

"Jedi?  Really? What did they want with _you_ so bad that they used drugs strong enough for a Jedi?" Corso asked to the open air, musing to himself.

 

That's when Bowdaar made his entrance, with every ounce of drama he could muster, "[ _Captain, we have come to rescue you!_ ]"

 

"I can hear that, thanks," the captain smiled in what he hoped was the right direction, "Let's get out of here. I uh- I'm going to need some help though, I'd really rather not trip down a flight of stairs on my way out of this mess."

 

And so they made their slow, careful way out, and back to the ship where Risha was waiting.  Liroh's navigation of his ship was markedly better than in unfamiliar territory, despite the multitude of places to trip present inside.  He successfully navigated himself, with a few guiding grunts from Bowdaar, to the medbay and flopped himself down onto one of the beds.

 

Risha was there soon, the sheet metal flooring giving her away.

 

"You look like hell."

 

Liroh choked on a laugh, "Yeah? And you sound cranky."

 

Risha's distinct, sharp footsteps came closer and she grabbed at the side of his head, probably harder than required, and tilted it this way and that.  She let go, huffed and started rifling through whatever supplies she had found without a response.

 

"Risha? You good?"

 

She stopped her fiddling with whatever it was, paused, "What does it look like?"

 

Ah, she hadn't gotten the memo.

 

"No clue, I can't see right now.  I got Jedi knock-out juice injected in me so I don't have any means of seeing right now," he replied awkwardly.  He sat himself upright and let his legs dangle off the side of the med bed like a little kid sitting in a doctor's office.  He frowned, "Well, no way of dealing with it now. Just have to wait for it to get out of my system is all. Then I'll be able to grab a hold on the Force again and I'll be back to flying in no time."

 


	2. To The Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever works out as planned, and Liroh takes his crew to the only place he can thing of.

If only it had gone that smoothly.

 

Within a week all four of them were on Tython, the crew making a painfully slow ascent up the steps of the Jedi temple minus Risha, who had stayed back to mind the ship. The steps, though evenly spaced, were just far apart in width to be awkward to walk up on even the best of days.  It was slow going for the group, and when a giant wookiee hand grabbed his shoulder to halt him, Liroh nearly toppled over. He was about to turn and ask what the hell that was when he heard a slight intake of breath from in front of him.

 

" _ You _ ," the woman, as the voice was soft and smooth, said.  The voice was familiar and Liroh, with a fresh set of bandages in place of his mask so as to let the wounds heal, furrowed his brow.

 

"I know that voice," he mumbled, near inaudible as he tried to puzzle out who this was that rang such deep familiarity in him.  It was recent, he knew that much, but before his trip to Alderaan where he was caught by the Imps. The only planet he'd been on course for beyond that was-

 

Then it clicked.

 

"Tatooine, you're the Jedi from Tatooine," his focused expression relaxed into a smile, "You were chasing that holocron or whatever it was.  You're uh, don't tell me," he muttered a few nonsensical, disjointed words trying to find one that he properly associated with the Jedi in front of him.  He imagined she was standing there with her arms crossed, waiting impatiently. Although that was rather unlike the Jedi, and she was just as likely to be waiting with all the patience in the world.

 

Finally he got it, "Nariel, you're Nariel," Liroh beamed, hoping he was at least somewhat looking at her.

 

Her voice gave nothing of her expression away in the emptiness, "Indeed, I am.  I was just on my way out on my next assignment, there is much to be done."

 

Liroh waved his hand about in a gesture he hoped didn't look too dismissive, "Yeah, excellent. I uh, can I ask you something before you go?"

 

There was silence, a long, awkward pause.

 

"[ _ He can't see you nod _ ]" Bowdaar chimed in helpfully, and Liroh flushed.

 

"She was nodding?" he lowered his voice.

 

The wookiee gave a short growl of ascent and Liroh cleared his throat into his jacket, "I uh- don't know how much Shyriiwook you know but I need your help with something."

 

"I know very little, I'm afraid.  I believe I caught 'he', 'not', and 'see'," she replied, with no inflection at all in her voice.  The level to which Jedi were capable of displaying no emotion was creepy.

 

Liroh decided to ignore the crawling sensation on his back and forged onwards, "Yeah, he essentially said I couldn't see you nod at me.  I had a bit of a run-in on Alderaan with some very persistent Imps, and they had some, I don't know, drug meant to disable Jedi," his voice pitched upwards, "Well, they used it on me and it's been almost a week since I got out of there but I still can't-" he cut himself off and took a deep breath.

 

He focused on relaxing himself, letting the tension roll off before he continued.  Either Nariel was still there, patiently waiting, or his companions were content letting him vent to no one, but he was going to finish either way.

 

"It's been nearly a week and I still can't see.  My grip on the Force has always been baseline shitty, just enough to get a read on personalities and to see, but both of those are gone now, and I can't find a thread to latch on to.  This is the only place we could think to go that wouldn't be too dangerous to travel or be useless. If anyone knows about the Force in any helpful capacity, it's the Jedi."

 

He held his breath and waited for her response.  She was silent for several seconds too many, and after another few moments of silence he asked quietly, hopefully, to the air, "Nariel?"

 

"I am here," her voice came from much closer than he was anticipating and he startled.  When her hand pressed down on his shoulder firmly, a calming gesture, he flinched at first before relaxing into the grip.

 

"Can you help?" he whispered, barely able to bring himself to say it.  A negative would be, frankly devastating. He needed his senses, all of them, to continue to be a pilot worth anything at all.  He needed them even to survive, with the kind of bounty he had on his head. If he lost his sight permanently now, he might as well deliver himself to Rogan personally.

 

Nariel didn't respond for a good, long while.  She was likely weighing her options, Liroh forced himself to continue in her silence, "If you don't have time, then you could just pass me off to Jilah, if she's here?"

 

"Jilah?" finally an emotion in the detached words, curiosity.

 

Liroh nodded, "Yeah, if you know her, Jilah Vooretta?  She- we know each other, if you don't have the time maybe she will?" he hesitated to inform Nariel of how well they really knew each other, knowing that the Jedi were against attachments and such.  Best to keep things vague and friendly, if it would get him to help.

 

Bowdaar grunted, to which Nariel quickly followed with a quiet, "I'm nodding. Jilah came in this morning on a shuttle, you are lucky.  I have just enough time to go find her. I will bring her here, do not move."

 

She walked away, audibly, up the steps and disappeared into the distance.  Liroh strained to hear much more, but only caught the wind through the leaves, both in sound and smell, which brought the slightly humid, cool air into his lungs.  He caught echoes of Jedi from the courtyards behind him, and the hum of lightsabers distantly, almost imperceptible.

 

"Liroh!"

 

The man sagged in relief, and broke into a smile.  He never thought he'd be so put at ease by his sister's voice.  He hoped he didn't look too beat to shit, though in all likelihood he looked like he'd been to hell and back, "Hey, Jils.  Uh, surprise."

 

"What the hell happened to you?" well shit, now he knew he looked bad, "You look like you got in a fistfight with a wampa."

 

Shit. That's way worse than he guessed.

 

He dropped the smile, "I would have taken the wampa, a wampa wouldn't have anti-Jedi drugs that knock out your connection to the Force."

 

He didn't have to see Jilah's shocked face, he knew exactly the one she was making the instant he heard her alarmed, disbelieving, " _ What? _ "

 

"Yeah," he grimaced, "Alderaan wasn't fun.  That's why we're here."

 

He held his arms out to the sides plaintively, displaying the damage done to him a week previous.  He yelped when two spindly, strong hands snatched at his arm and manhandled him into a supportive hold, his arm slung over the bony, narrow shoulders of his sister.  She held one hand with hers, and her other hand gripped Liroh's waist to direct him.

 

He could hear Bowdaar struggling not to laugh at his Captain being pushed around like a toy by the fairly unimposing Jedi.  Liroh stuck his tongue out in Bowdaar's approximate direction, and with that the group began the slow ascent to the Temple.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels super small to me, but it's a nice cut-off point, which leaves me a fresh way to start the next chapter.
> 
> Also, Nariel makes an appearance! She was all sorts of fun on Tatooine lol.


	3. Despite It All, Liroh's Still An Older Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the predicament, Liroh takes any and every opportunity to embarrass his little sister.

To say that it was a shock, seeing the two Miraluka, stumbling and laughing their way into the council chambers, is an understatement.  The blast of bright, candy red hair on each of their heads, the same tan, and the multitude of facials scars shared between them, made it seem almost as though Satele Shan was seeing double.  She had just, in fact, been on her way out when the duo showed up with human, Wookiee, and Trandoshan in tow.

 

The Wookiee and the Trandoshan were side-eyeing each other, though each seemed to be putting aside whatever beef they had developed with each other in favor of keeping an eye on the Miralukan disaster heading into the room.

 

"Jilah, what-"

 

Master Satele hardly got the words out before Jilah, stumbling under the weight of the larger man currently slung over her shoulder, rushed into an explanation, "Master Satele!  This is Liroh, and he needs help."

 

Satele raised a sharp eyebrow, slowly, and approached the two, "He needs help, how so?  What sort?"

 

Jilah opened her mouth to reply but Liroh cut her off with a hand clumsily placed over her mouth and answered in her place, "I had a bit of a run in with the Empire that-" Jilah licked his hand and he snatched it back with an exaggerated expression of disgust and afront, "Jil!  Nasty, what have they been teaching you? Don't lick me!"

 

"Then don't put your hand in licking-range, dipstick," she replied rather smugly, with a proud smile that she  _ knew _ Liroh could just  _ hear _ .

 

"Hey, I'm blind. Be nice."

 

"I could keep you blind if you don't show some respect-"

 

Satele coughed into her hand, bringing their attention back to her, and intervening before their antics could get too out-of-hand.  The two went quiet, Jilah facing her directly and Liroh missing the mark by a few degrees. She frowned at the younger Jedi, "That isn't a good attitude to have, Jilah."

 

Jilah opened her mouth to retort but, again, Liroh interrupted her, this time by sticking his tongue out and blowing a raspberry at her.  She gave a heavy sigh, "You're a  _ child. _ "

 

"What does that make you? I'm older than you."

 

"About to commit a homicide is what-"

 

"Jilah!"

 

The two turned back to Satele, again, the younger Miraluka looking thoroughly horrified.  She sputtered, "But I- he-!"

 

Liroh started laughing.  He almost couldn't breathe through his wheezing, throaty laughter.

 

Jilah frowned and ground out a terse, "I hate you."

 

Liroh was near instantly pulling her in to place a disgusting, sloppy wet kiss on the top of her head while she tried to push him off.

 

"Oh you  _ wound _ me, Jilah," he sighed dramatically, "Betrayed by my own sweet baby sister!  How could you!"

 

He draped himself bodily over her shoulder, dragging her down as he became an oversized, floppy paperweight.  She braced herself under his dead weight while he continued to loudly lament the tragedy of being despised by his sister, 'light of his life' and 'smartest of their line,' milking it for all it was worth.  Jilah's face burned hot and red, highlighting the criss-cross of scarring all across her face and neck which refused, as much as the rest of her face was slowly matching her hair, to gain any color at all.

 

Satele hid her smile behind her hand, watching the theatrics.  When she felt Jilah had suffered sufficient mortification, she interrupted Liroh's dramatic soliloquy, "You said you needed help?"

 

Liroh was quick to sober, he removed himself from the arms of his lanky Jedi sister and stood up straighter, "Ah, yes," and began recounting again what had happened to him a week ago--the Imperial backing of some Alderaanian houses, his personal stake as an aid to House Organa (he included, if a bit self-congratulatory in his comment, his elevation to Paladin of House Organa.  Clearly a point of pride), his capture for being a royal pain in the Empire's side, and the drug specifically designed to cut off one's connection to the Force. He explained his week aboard his small freighter, wherein every attempt at reaching the Force again ended in complete failure, even in the face of the lively tenants living in the cramped ship. It should be stirring up the Force significantly, but no matter how he tried it never worked.

 

"I figured the next step would be to get help, and who better than the Jedi?  My crew wouldn't be able to navigate Alpheridies, only infrared light there and I don’t stock flashlights, so there was no going home to get help," he finished, trailing off with a shrug as if to say  _ so there it is _ .

 

He shuffled in place, unable to see the horrified look on his sister’s face, “So, can you help me?”

 


End file.
